


Tell Me a Secret

by JustAnotherOutcast



Category: Hataraku Maou-Sama! | The Devil Is a Part-Timer!
Genre: Gen, Read at Your Own Risk, but it focuses on maou most, its weird and kinda pretentious so like, technically this has pretty much all the main characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-05-06 09:46:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5412209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnotherOutcast/pseuds/JustAnotherOutcast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Strange things happen often. They aren't that noticeable, but they still happen. Every day of every year, something unexplainable happens to someone. But most of the time, that something will never happen to you. What must it be like to be unexplainable? Great, I assume. No matter what, you will always find someone.</p><p>As a less poetic summary, a stranger starts showing up in MgRonald's at the same time everyday. That's pretty much it. Idk what this story is so far. It's kinda dark and somber if that's your thing?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Woman

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not really too sure what this fanfic is. It's kinda written in this weirdly pretentious style, and characters are pretty OOC, and I'm not entirely sure what the plot is, but that's fiiiine. I hope you enjoy it?

**.. The Woman ..**

A Wednesday afternoon. The sun is slowly crawling away from the peak of the sky, its beams reflecting against the softly sprinkled snow the was scattered across the city the night before. It’s cold out, and a few stragglers from the lunch rush are lingering in a heated MgRonald’s in order to snap up a few leftover sandwiches and fries the other customers left behind.

The employees are sighing in a relief, relieved that they now only have to deal with a short woman and a small gaggle of friends. They appreciate the premade sandwiches when they are quickly packed onto trays and given to those who pay, and they are glad they don’t have to peer over a heated fryer for another hour in order to hand out the burger after burger that everyone orders.

There is a brief silence between the “Thank you”s and “Come again”s that echo around the restaurant. Another customer walks in.

“I have a few questions about your items...”

The questions are terribly in depth. No one knows the answer, except for one.

“Well, our beef is all free-range and grass fed.”

Read out of a manual. He doesn’t know if it’s true. But Maou is the only one who can remember the manual, so no one cares if it’s true or not. He’s a lifesaver.

The woman continues to ask questions, most of which seem like they have little to nothing to do with the restraurant at all.

“Who grows the lettuce you use?”

“In order to ensure the best quality, we buy all of our vegetable stock weekly from a local provider.”

Once again, no one knows for a fact if what he said is true.

The woman accepts it. She can tell the difference between an honest response and an employee’s pitch, but she doesn’t bother to point out the difference. For that, Maou is thankful.

She orders a small fry and a milkshake, and then leaves.

She comes back the next day, the same time. This time, the employees begin to take note of her appearance. The simple brown hair and semi-formal outfit make it hard to pinpoint anything notable about her. She’s just a normal citizen.

Maou is there again to answer her questions.

“What gluten-free products do you have here?”

“All of our bread and potato products here have gluten in them, but we do offer a large variety of salads that are just as good.”

She doesn’t order a salad. She leaves with a small fry and a milkshake.

The next day is all the same. After the lunch rush, just when the restaurant has emptied out, she comes again.

“Where do you get your vanilla for your shakes from?”

“We get it along with all other ingredients from our local food provider.”

She orders a small fry and a milkshake before leaving.

The next day is Maou’s day off. He stays home, but at three forty, he glances at his phone. He’s received a text from Chiho. THe woman came back again. This time, she asked if the employees cut the potatoes in the store or not.

Maou goes back the next day. He’s just starting his shift when he sees the woman walk into the store. He doesn’t answer her question that day. Apparently, it was about the origin of the cotton in their uniforms. She left with a small fry and  a milkshake

At this point, everyone working at MgRonalds is forming an opinion on this woman. With the small staff of about eight in the MgRonald’s everyone gets to have their own theory.

Satomi Kawacchi believes the woman is just another customer who has decided to frequently visit for some reason or another.

Akemi Yamada thinks she may have been a frequent visitor before Ms. Kisaki was the manager.

Hiroko Sato thinks she’s a ghost or something like from those popular horror films.

Katsuo Nakano is a firm believer that she is a secret agent for the government come to spy on them for an unknown reason.

Noa Fukui doesn’t really care. She just wants to go home. She always does.

Yumi Kagome thinks the questions are really a code. She’s started writing them down on spare napkins.

Ms. Kisaki isn’t so sure that her appearance is a good thing, but at least she’s contributing to the sales. However, she tells Maou to refrain from answering some of the more in-depth questions. They didn’t want conspirators to come beating down their door about rats in the chicken.

Chiho Sasaki thinks she is just another woman. A bit stranger than most, but “You shouldn’t judge others like that, Mr. Maou. You don’t know what their life is like.”

Sadao Maou believes she is odd. Annoying. Sort of stupid, too, but that’s because he has to deal with her everyday. But clearing away the personal bias, Maou isn’t sure what to think about this woman. He’s curious, that’s for sure, but beyond that, he doesn’t have a good guess on what the woman’s intentions are.

So he shrugs it off. He takes the register from Nakano and deals with the influx of early diners. He doesn’t have time to bother with theories and conspiracies.


	2. Pattern

**.. Pattern ..**

“Good afternoon, miss! What can I get you today?”

“I have some questions, actually.”

“Of course.”

A month has passed since the woman started to appear. Not much has changed. She shows up at the same time everyday, asks a question or two, orders a small fry and milkshake, and then she leaves. It doesn’t matter how cold it is outside, or if the snow had warded off most other customers. Everyone is used to it by now, and Maou isn’t the default to deal with her anymore.

“Our apple pies are made out of only the best apples.” What kind specifically, they don’t know. They come frozen in crates, ready to be deep fried. What kind of apple never seemed to be important.

She seems to accept the answer as she doesn’t press it. She orders a small fry and a milkshake.

Once she leaves, the store is empty, as expected due to the blistering snow outside. The employees begin to converse, talking about the day as they busy themselves with cleaning.

“Things have been going really smoothly around here lately, huh, Mr. Maou?”

Maou blinks at Chiho as she wipes down the tables with him. “What do you mean?”

“Well, think about it. We haven’t run into any problem customers, we haven’t messed up any orders, I haven’t even dropped a single fry!”

It was true. They seem to be having a lucky streak lately. Even Ms. Kisaki is happy about it. The manager is pleased with the sales, and the employees are pleased with the ease of work.

“But, there is that woman...”

A whole month since the strangers first visit, and no one really seems to mind her anymore. Sure, she is strange, but it became habit. Even Maou had gotten used to it.

But they didn’t want to leave the mystery of her unsolved. They still gossip, exchange theories, murmur ideas to each other when they’re bored. It’s much less speculation as it is a passing conversation topic. A way to entertain themselves as they juggle burgers between buns.

He goes home thinking about it. About the woman and her strange schedule. Where did she go after she left? Where did she come from? She doesn’t know anything about him, does she? He doubts it.

For the first time in a long while, Maou is actually happy that he is no longer asleep. However, he still isn't exactly fond of being awake, especially with the alarm clock blaring at him from a distance and Urushihara whining at him from his box to shut the damn thing up.

He had a dream that night, though he can’t remember what it was about. The alarm makes sure of it. He spends a minute trying to grasp at the fading memories, though he considers that perhaps he shouldn’t. He feels a sense of unease, something warding him away from the sleep he normally enjoyed. 

He lunges for the noise of the blaring alarm, proceeding to ram his toe into the table it sits on. A great start to the morning, and all too nostalgic.

He ignores the injured appendage and jumps up again to throw on some pants before dashing out the door. He only says a quick "See ya later" farewell to Ashiya before he closes the door and hops on his bike.

He doesn’t let himself think too hard about it. He goes to work early, hoping a slower bike ride can clear his head. It does, but not for the right reasons. His bike skids on a patch of ice and almost hurtles him into oncoming traffic. He forces himself to stop thinking about the woman until he gets to his work. He can’t afford to ruin his perfect attendance record in order to muse over it.

The woman is already there by the time he arrives.

They’re starting to become more comfortable with her. They allow themselves to hesitate, to actually think about the questions the woman asks before offering a response. They start to admit it when they have no idea, and they occasionally even crack a joke.

The woman doesn’t react.

She never does.

Maou sometimes wonders if she even processes the answers to the questions she asks. Maybe someday she’ll repeat a question. Maybe she’ll mess up.

Like always, she orders a small fry and a milkshake.

Idly, Maou wonders if she even likes milkshakes.


	3. The Menu Changes Sometimes

**.. The Menu Changes Sometimes ..**

Today is a rather mild day compared to the freezing storm that occurred the night before. More people are out and about than is normal for the season. In comparison, the weather is great. A perfect opportunity to get out.

“Are the customers here expected to wash their own uniforms?”

The woman doesn’t take the day off, however. She is back at the same time.

“Yeah, we really don’t have any other option.” A casual response, as per the norm at this point. They don’t bother with the polite puffery anymore, at least not when Ms. Kisaki isn’t around. “Once we get our uniform, it’s our job to take care of it, you know what I mean?”

The woman nods. It’s the first time she’s reacted to an answer. It’s the first time anyone has ever asked for one. She orders a small fry and a milkshake.

The next day, Kawacchi tries something different. He knows about her reaction the previous day, and he has a theory he wishes to test.

“Good afternoon, miss! Would you like your usual?”

It’s the first time an employee has said this to her over “What can I get you today” or something of the like. This seems to throw things off a little.

She pauses.

“Yes, please.”

She doesn’t ask any questions this time.

Maou finds himself distracted for the rest of the day. Even as he sits at the table in his apartment to partake in the dinner Ashiya managed to scrape together, his mind wanders.

Over the bickering of his two roommates, he thinks back to the woman. He blinks upon the realization that he can’t remember what she wears. Was it a skirt? Pants? Was her hair long? What color was it? He couldn’t remember for the life of him.

The next day, he is working at the stove when the woman comes back. He doesn’t answer any questions that day.

“How often does your menu change?”

“We keep most of our customers favorites on the menu year round, but we also have a few seasonal options.”

“What about those new curly fries?”

“Eh..?” Yamada casts a glance at Sato who is at the register next to her.

“The curly fries. We didn’t always have them. Tell her how often we get new items like that.”

Yamada hesitates, feeling her social anxiety creep back into her frame. “But- but that happens so rarely...”

Sato sighs in what seems to be irritation. “Would you like to order, miss?” she asks, ignoring the now nervous Yamada.

The woman orders a small fry and a milkshake, and Yamada questions her friend.

“What was that about?”

“Nothing.”

Sato doesn’t speak again that night, and from the back, Maou notices something.

The woman wears skirts.


	4. Selfish

**.. Selfish ..**

Since Kawacchi began taking the woman’s usual order, she’s stopped asking questions. Kagome is pretty relieved. It makes dealing with her faster. Nakano has a problem with it. He believes the woman shouldn’t be restricted to “Yes” or “No” upon entering the store. She should be able to voice her concerns.

He starts to complain to Kawacchi, nagging him.

“Just let her say _something_ before offering her the usual, like _store policy_ says we should.”

Kawacchi disagrees. Loudly.

“Get out of my business,” he says. “You can’t tell me how to talk to her. You can’t tell me what to do.”

Nakano refuses to back down. “You have to let customers order the normal way, or-”

Kawacchi shoves him back, and Nakano lets out a startled gasp when he back slams against the cold metal of the freezer.

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

“Let go of me!”

This isn’t the first hostile exchange in MgRonald’s, but it is the most noticeable. Ms. Kisaki has to leave the register in order to deal with them, and the two customers she has to abandon decide they’re rather slip out while they can.

“Knock it off! What has gotten into you two?”

Kawacchi backs down, and Nakano looks at him with a strange expression. A cross between anger and fear.

“What is _wrong_ with you?”

Chiho comes to Maou later that day, asking questions.

“What happened earlier?”

“Kawacchi pushed Nakano.”

“Why?”

Maou shrugs. “I don’t know.” He doesn’t care.

Now, Kawacchi is the only one who offers the woman her usual. It’s not that no one else tried, and it wasn’t that the woman shot them down. Kawacchi did.

“That’s my job,” he says. “Only I get to ask her that.”

The others find his idea childish, but with that look in his eye, they don’t challenge it. No one likes to talk to Kawacchi anymore.

Nakano is the biggest influence for them. Since Kawacchi’s little outburst, everyone has been on edge around him, especially Nakano. In fact, the boy takes a day off. Several days off. Some without permission.

The Friday evening he comes back into work, Ms. Kisaki chews him out for a good five minutes. He heads to his station without a word when she is done, and even though he ducks his head, Maou notices a sort of coldness in his eyes. Had Maou not been interrupted by a customer entering the building, he probably would have been concerned.

He finds himself thinking a lot more than he used to. After the dinner rush ends and Maou is allowed to clock out, he blanks out as he bikes home. It’s odd, as the internalization of most of his thoughts has led to a decrease in the number of times he uses his voice per day. He realizes it first when Ashiya points it out to him.

“You haven’t been speaking much lately, Sire. Are you not feeling well?”

“What? No, I’m fine.”

Maou can tell he isn’t convinced, but his roommate drops the subject. And while he isn’t overly fond of them, the Devil doesn’t turn his nose up at the extra vegetables that show up on his plate that evening.


	5. All Good Things Come to an End

**.. All Good Things Come to an End ..**

The woman has changed her habits. It was surprising, really, the Sunday evening when she, instead of heading straight for the door, turned to take a seat at one of the many tables in the restaurant. Maou thinks back on it often, he realizes, and he has yet to become accustomed to the change in pace. Some of his coworkers seem more pleased with the development than others.

Kawacchi is thrilled, along with Sato. It never occurred to him at the time, but when he thinks back, Maou realizes that Sato abandoned her ghostly theories about the woman a while ago. She instead seems to regard the woman as a person, maybe a friend. Maou isn’t sure which, but he can tell that she doesn’t see her as just a theory anymore.

He confirms it with Chiho, and she smiled.

“I’m glad. She doesn’t deserve to have rumors like that around her.”

There’s a scoff, and Maou braces himself, clenching his teeth.

Nakano, mopping the floor a little more aggressively than Maou thinks is necessary, doesn’t agree. “Who gives a shit what anyone thinks about her?”

Chiho frowns, irritation lacing her brow. She is about to respond when someone else beats her to it.

“I do.” Fukui. She’s not cleaning, just leaning on the counter as she watches the clock. Five minutes to closing.

“Why would you?”

“She’s my sister. Of course I would care.”

Nakano scoffs, and Chiho crosses her arms. “That’s not very funny, Ms. Fukui.”

“It’s the truth.” She doesn’t take her eyes off of the clock. Four minutes to closing.

“Shut up. It is not.” Maou notices that Nakano hasn’t been very friendly since the incident with Kawacchi. He also notices that the conversation doesn’t really involve him and debates walking away.

“Is too.”

“Is not!”

“Is so too.”

“Ms. Fukui, stop it. It’s not funny!” Chiho is louder than usual, aggression lacing her tone. Fukui looks away from the clock to her.

“Is. Too.”

Maou looks at the clock. Three minutes to closing.

Nakano drops the mop, practically growling at the girl. “You’re a damn liar. If you were related, you’d at least look somewhat alike!”

“She’s adopted.”

Two minutes.

“Not to mention you’d have mentioned her before when she first came here!”

“We don’t like each other much.”

One minute.

“Shut up, Fukui! You’re a liar!”

Maou leaves the minute to doors are locked.

As he bikes home, he presses the pedals harder than necessary. He takes sharper turns and taps his foot a crosswalks, and he doesn’t take the time by himself to think like he usually does. It’s only when he cusses out a turned car which nearly swerved into him that he realizes why. For the first time in a long while, Maou is royally pissed for no good reason.

The raging heat in is his gut only subsides when he gets closer to his destination. The crisp night air of the winter cools him off, and the silence allows his mind to settle. He ponders on why he was angry. Maybe it was the tension of the conversation he had been left with, or maybe the stubbornness of his coworkers. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that Chiho dropped one of their orders during the dinner rush, effectively slowing them down.

Maybe it was none of those. Whatever it was, Maou doesn’t entirely care. He finds himself enjoying his bike rides to and from work far more than he does being anywhere else.

However, all good things come to an end.

“Would it kill you tell help with the chores at least once?”

“Yes”

The fighting between his roommates is a constant in his life, and Maou has gotten used to it. In fact, he sometimes questions what he would do if it suddenly stopped one day. He can imagine that the silence would start to get to him. He does think back to the times before Urushihara stepped back into his life fondly, but he’s found that the bickering serves as a reminder that the winter hasn’t frozen the world, as much as the fluttering snowflakes want to make him believe.

He wonders when it will stop. When the snow will turn to rain. When the grass will pop out of the dirt. Winter is longer here than on Ente Isla, and, as he gazes out the small window of his home, he feels a sigh lodge itself in his throat. He wishes he had conquered those islands, if only for the balmy breeze in summer time.


	6. Glue

**.. Glue ..**

“You look... stressed.”

Maou blinks at the comment. He doesn’t realize he’s frowning until he forces a smile onto his face to greet Rika.

“You should go out or something, blow off some steam.” She claps her hands together. “Oh, I know! Come out to lunch with me and Emi!”

Maou is appalled at the idea, and he makes it clear through his scowl. “Why would I do that?”

Rika rolls her eyes. “Hey, you two may have had a grudge in the past, but that’s no reason to ignore each other forever.”

“That’s a perfectly good reason.”

“Oh, come on, it’s just lunch.”

There is hesitation, but Maou agrees. After all, it is just lunch.

With a smile, Rika orders her food and sets up a time for them.

They go out when he’s done with his shift the next day. It’s a little late, and Maou even considers staying late just to make sure the woman arrives on time. However, Rika’s watch doesn’t allow for it.

He’s a little surprised to actually see Emi. He half expected the hero to outright decline and refuse to come. He ends up wondering what kind of blackmail Rika has over her head.

They decide to go to a sit-down restaurant, something fancier than the numerous fast food places lining the streets. They find a local restaurant, one with a simple name. Not too many syllables, not not exactly recognizable either. Generic.

As they sit in the family-style restaurant, waiting for their orders to come out, Maou’s eyes are focused on something far away, something no one, not even he, can see, his head resting in the palm of his hand. There is a silence, the kinds that makes it hard to speak.

Rika takes a stab at it.

“Soooo, Maou, how’s work?”

He shrugs. “Fine.”

“...Anything interesting happen recently?”

“No.”

Rika and Emi exchange a glance, and Emi furrows her brow. There’s a potent silence, and Emi heaves a sigh. Maou doesn’t react to it, but he does react to the fork that is suddenly thrust towards his face. He jerks away from the utensil, redirecting his gaze to the hero wielding it like a weapon.

“What is up with you?” she asks, her tone heated.

“What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me! You’ve barely said a word since we headed out, and you’ve been staring into space every chance you get!”

“No I haven’t!” An instant denial. He doesn’t take the time to figure out if her accusations are true.

Emi scoffs. “That’s the longest sentence you’ve said today! It’s freaking me out.”

Maou frowns in annoyance. “How would you know?”

Rika jumps in, hoping that maybe a bit of joking can get Maou out of his mood. “Yeah, Emi, how would you know? Are you stalking him?”

Emi slams the fork down on the table, sputtering indignantly as her shocked face shifts to her friend. “Why would I want to stalk someone like him?”

“Cuz you’re a creeper.”

The fork is once again in Maou’s face. “I am not a creeper! I just got to keep tabs on you when you start acting funny like this!”

Rika lets out a mock gasp. “She admits it!”

“I do not!”

The chatter continues, always stepping the border between play and fight. Rika keeps it going, mostly because of Maou and Emi’s near inability to hold a normal conversation without insulting the other. The silence around Maou begins to melt away as they finish their food, and as they begin to part ways, Maou finds himself wishing that they could stay just a little longer.

“This was fun,” Rika says. “We should do it again some time.”

They agree, but on the way home, Maou’s smile slowly fades. By the time he reaches his steps, he concludes that he talked far too much. By the time he reaches his door, he decides talking that much is too much effort.

He never noticed it before, but Maou can feel the tension the next time he walks into work. No one is exactly pleased with one another, and the hatred has been working its way into Maou’s shoulders, stiffening them and causing a kink in his neck that he can’t get out no matter how he twists.

There is a shadow of tension looming over the restaurant that leaves Maou with a sick feeling in his gut. Upon further inspection, the shadow doesn’t stop at the restaurant. It reaches as far as his home, too.  
The bickering seems to be getting out of hand, and Maou is starting to dread going home.

He starts taking overtime. Work might not be the best place to be anymore, the lingering tensions between employees who go to excessive lengths to avoid touching one another biting at his calm. But it’s better than at home, where the conflict is so open that his ears have started ringing whenever he leaves for work.

Ms. Kisaki notices only after a few days, and she scolds him. He can’t keep working overtime. Corporate doesn’t allow it. It’s a health risk, she says. She doesn’t seem concerned for his health.

It does nothing to improve his mood when Maou realizes that not even his manager is immune from the strange aura enveloping the building.

He doesn’t mention it. Instead, he stays in the back, working the grill. It feels like there’s glue keeping his teeth mashed together, and when Maou isn’t clenching his jaw, he glides his tongue across the smooth, white bones, as if trying to remove something that isn’t there.

He focuses more on his teeth than he does his coworkers, but he’s alright with this. He doesn’t want to talk to them anyway.

Kawacchi isn’t scheduled for the day. The woman comes in, per usual, and Chiho is there to assist her. Maou can see her excitement but doesn’t share it.

There is no harm in it. Chiho takes a leap of faith.

“Would you like your usual, ma’am?”

Why not? Kawacchi isn’t there to stop her.

He comes in the next day, oblivious. As he is putting his things in his locker, the woman comes in. As he exits the back, the woman orders.

Chiho asks for her usual.

“That’s my job now.”

The woman takes her milkshake and small fry to her table, and the next day, Kawacchi is fired for assaulting a coworker.


End file.
